Sunday, April 8, 2012

Sparrow's cupcake

Grocer’s Sunday lot,
brown sparrow pecking furiously
tattering in all seriousness
the slick pink icing
Easter child’s

Cars wheeling by
she pecks.
Days are short
winds leave the mountains.

you never know.

We’re young, see hills
Waved off beneath running shoes.
She was young
loved and beloved,
ambitiously toughened.  Fierce against foe.
But now the
winds quicken,
breath shortens.
Yet the sugary cream in April sun drips
Into a throat needing

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